


The human condition: a four letter word

by RnameR



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 20:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19236319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RnameR/pseuds/RnameR
Summary: A response to DHW's Four Letter Words. Written from Aziraphale's point of view, just to make that pining super mutual. Completely un- betaed and written on a tram. Be kind :)





	The human condition: a four letter word

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DHW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DHW/gifts).



Nice had been all Aziraphale ever really wanted. After all, it had been a nice thing to hand over the flaming sword to Adam at the beginning of all this. A nice life, a good book, and a great collection of wine. All these four letter words made Aziraphale feel safe. Nice, good, great, book, wine, all comforted him to the point where he might forget entirely that he had a Purpose at all. 

Of course, there were other... More complicated four letter words that would have kept him awake at night (if he slept). Pain, fate, hate, plan, fuck all held an uncomfortable facination for him. Words to describe the 'human condition'. The human condition, he realised, is one thing he has ever truly cared about. Ever since he made the great transgression of handing over his sword to warm and defend the first human on this earth his primary mission has been to understand them. The fact that he had relinquished the ineffable plan from The Beginning gave Aziraphale a small thrill. Has he ever really been an angel? Was that merely his species rather than his job title? There are lots of titles he would prefer scholar, bon vivant, confirmed bachelor, he smiled to himself at the latter. Queer was one word that had been pushed upon him by humans, but he always thought it rather suited him after all, what was more queer than an angel whose best friend was a demon. 

Then he came to Crowley. Pain, hate, fate, plan, fuck somehow complex four letter words swirled around Crowley much like the flames had not so long ago swirled around his Bentley. Aziraphale considered fate, they had been placed together at the beginning of the world he and Crowley. Left to navigate the complexities of their respective tasks with little help from those who had set them. Is it any wonder really that they turned to each other to solve a mutual problem. 

"We're on our side" Crowley's words from the bandstand rang out in his mind on the silent bus. "Fuck. That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me" thought Aziraphale and it was true, Gabriel wasn't known for genuine praise, Michael was mistrusting and surly and while to waiters in London's fine dining establishments were exceedingly charming they had never said anything like that.

And suddenly that moment had transformed in his mind and instead of hurting the one being who had ever shown him any care Aziraphale imagined it like this.

"We're on our side" And then the argument stops with mouths meeting. Aziraphale backing Crowley up against the pillar of the band stand. Hands grasping, struggling with buttons and zips.

Well fuck, Aziraphale discovered angels could blush. Surely he didn't want to fuck Crowley? He was above that sort of thing, and as much as once or twice in a public lavatory in the 50s a stranger had suggested it, well, he couldn't say sex had really been his cup of tea. Now there was another dimension. This was Crowley. They had known each other for 6000 years. Fought and dined on the same battlefield. Crowley had saved hamlet, he saved the books… Out of all of the four letter words in all the books in his shop there was one that had always confounded Aziraphale. It was at the forefront of the human condition that he had worked so hard to understand. He didn't spell it out to himself, scared to burst the quiet, pleasant, painful bubble of feeling that he now found himself in.

Aziraphale decided on another four letter word.

Ritz.


End file.
